but who's gonna push my wheelchair around when i get sick?

[retroviridae]

[ Two officers shot in local standoff following raid on drug compound. That had been the headline, nonspecific. And yet—"someone just walked over my grave" was how superstitious idiots would probably phrase the feeling of cold dread that had washed over William as he watched the words scroll across the bottom of the screen, as the footage cut to a reporter standing in front of police tape and a mess of red and blue light. Ambulances, police cars. He knew. He didn't know how, but he knew.

His hands ached with the tension of his grip on the Volvo's hard steering wheel as he made the drive to the place—taken to Robert Fleitcher Memorial Hospital, the news had said, God only knew how long ago. There was a short argument with the bitch at the front desk before the protected information he already knew was finally disclosed.

Albert had been shot. In the side and the thigh, and the uneducated receptionist wasn't able to give him the crucial specifics that might give him an idea as to whether or not he would be attending a funeral or a hospital visit. Still in surgery. Another two hours, added to the four he'd already been on the table long before William knew.

His name was listed as next of kin, as he expected. Not like there was anyone else. It took him another hour after the conclusion of the operation to come into consciousness, an hour in which all William could do was stare at the IV line and the bloody drain tubing and the readings on the screen behind him while trying to assemble his mind into something coherent.

At last Albert opened his eyes, lifted his head. All at once the fear gave way to fury—how dare he? William had told him this was a horrid idea. ]

You fucking idiot.

Comments

[viralgod]

[ He heard his name distantly and felt the hand on his shoulder. The room felt cold. Why was it so cold? Even with a blanket covering him up to his neck, the room still felt like it was freezing.

Wesker shivered. It felt like it took too long to open his eyes, and when he did, he had the vague sense that the room was moving. That wasn't possible, but no amount of telling himself that made the sensation go away. ]

William...

[ His voice was groggy—distant. Something was very wrong, but he couldn't sort through his thoughts to put a name to it. What had William said to him? A nurse...

Now that it had started, the shivering wouldn't stop. He needed another blanket or two or three. Warmed blankets that would keep away the chill and let him be still. ]

This is wrong.

[ He still couldn't find the word for what this was, but he knew it wasn't normal. ]

[retroviridae]

I know. I know. You're septic.

[ William raked a hand through his bangs, uttered a breathless 'fuck'. ]

Stay there.

[ A stupid thing to say, but the only thing he could think of to say. Where the fuck else was he going to go with two gunshot wounds and blood poisoning?

He wasted no more time—just made a dash down the hall, leaving the door open behind him. The nurses took him seriously, at least, as they damn well should have considering the vital signs he repeated back to them. He quickly found himself all but pushed to the far wall of the room as the figures in scrubs crowded the man in the bed: within the first few seconds he was started on oxygen, given an injection of what he assumed to probably be norepinephrine. Some kind of antibiotic went into his IV. It was every bit as serious as he'd read it as being.

William's gaze flitted back and forth from the multiple pairs of hands at work and the numbers on the LCD screens above them. His pulse was worse; his blood pressure began to tick upwards as his blood vessels constricted but remained low.

And there was nothing he could do. Nothing. He stood there, hands damp and shaking at his sides, nauseous with stress and fear. ]

[viralgod]

[ Septic. That was the word he had been looking for. Something must have gone wrong during the surgery, or something from the building had gotten into one of his wounds. He tried to think of anything he might have noticed, either at the site or when he'd woken up in the hospital, but trying to think coherently was like trying to run in deep mud.

Death. You're going to die. That was the only thought that stood out to him, and it only made things worse. His heart raced. It felt hard to breathe.

Then there were several people in scrubs standing around him—working to stabilize him. Wesker couldn't keep up with everything they were doing, but the oxygen mask... there was some relief in that. His breathing was still rapid, but at least it felt productive.

He caught the word "fever" and realized that was why he felt so cold. His temperature must have been dangerously high. Instead of the warmth of more blankets, he dreaded the thought that they might need to cool him down. ]

[retroviridae]

[ He wanted to reach out, to place a hand on his shoulder or... or something, anything that might ground his friend in an ocean of unfamiliar faces, in the panic of the situation, which was no doubt distorted by the fever he was running. How much of it was he accurately perceiving? Did he feel fear, or was he too far gone?

There were no answers. He wasn't able to get close enough without interfering to tell. They started him on some kind of antipyretic, from what William overheard. One of the orderlies brought an ice pack for his forehead, another one for his wrist. His blood pressure was rising as the norepinephrine worked, but it was still firmly within the realm of hypotension. His heart rate still hadn't moved.

I should have noticed earlier. I should have been watching him the whole time. They're going to have to bring him to the ICU. Probably, maybe. It was hard to think rationally, for once in William's life.

At least one of the nurses was talking to him now: announcing what they were doing, in a tone of voice just a hair more sophisticated than one might use with a child:

Albert, you have to stay with us, okay?

Not Captain, as it had been earlier, when he was lucid. That sent another wave of foreboding through him. ]

[viralgod]

[ Wesker tried to push the ice packs away. Somewhere, deep down, he knew he needed them, but he didn't want them. To him, the room felt ridiculously cold already—like he was lying outside on a winter night.

It didn't matter. Each time he pushed them away, someone put them back.

He heard one of the nurses say his name, and he was able to make eye contact—to focus on her. Though right now, he didn't feel much like Albert Wesker. It seemed like that person was far away—had left him to deal with this alone. ]

[retroviridae]

[ He was struggling with them now. Not good, but at least he had the strength to do so. His distress, however, twisted deep at William's core, horribly contagious. Against all logic, he almost wanted them to stop—even despite a more cerebral knowledge of the life-saving nature of the measures his friend was currently protesting.

He finally broke from his paralyzed state and dared to step forward into the throng of blue-clad bodies, careful to approach from the foot of the bed as to stay reasonably out of the way, lest they tell him to leave entirely. For lack of anything else to do William reached down and rested a trembling hand on his calf from atop the thin cotton hospital blanket. ]

You can't fight them, Albert. They have to bring down your fever.

[viralgod]

[ That was a voice that he recognized—even felt comforted by. William. He turned his attention away from the people in scrubs, focusing on his old friend instead. William was still here. It seemed like a part of himself had abandoned him, but William hadn't.

He calmed a little and stopped trying to push away the ice packs. It was uncomfortable having them anywhere near him, but some part of him was aware that William was being reasonable.

His shivering was too severe for him to even notice the trembling in his friend's hand. He was grateful for the touch. ]

Dying... [ His voice was muffled by the oxygen mask. ] I'm dying.

NUCLEAR addition

[retroviridae]

[ Don't say that. There was an almost hysterical urge to yell as much, but William managed to keep his mouth closed until it passed. He gave Wesker's leg a bracing squeeze, because what the hell else was he able to do?

You're not dying, you're not dying. It's gonna be okay, the nurses were already assuring him, but William figured it would be better coming from him. At the very least, he needed to say it out loud just to hear it in his own voice, as though that would somehow make it truth or reverse the plain fact that the prognosis for sepsis, especially in a patient who had just come out of hypovolemic shock, wasn't good. At all. ]

You're not. It feels that way, but you're not. You're okay, Al. They're stabilizing you. You're going to be alright.

I thought William would appreciate it. Also, he called him Al. <3

[viralgod]

[ Everyone was trying to comfort him, assuring him that he wasn't dying—that he would be okay. It didn't feel that way from his perspective. Wesker felt like he was losing himself. A significant part of him was already gone, and the rest was soon to follow. ]

I am.

[ Right now, he didn't think anyone could convince him otherwise. It was something that he knew. All their efforts would be for nothing, and this would be the last time he ever saw William.

He was afraid, more so than he had ever been. ]

HE DID.... i hc that it's the closest he gets to a term of endearment

[retroviridae]

No. You're not. Look at me. Al. You're not dying.

[ He held onto his leg, because frankly William felt as though he might crumble apart if he didn't maintain some kind of tether to the man. ]

Look at that. Your blood pressure's coming back up.

[ Only barely. Slowly. He was terrified, but he didn't have the luxury of letting Wesker see that, of letting him get even the tiniest whiff of fear. ]

They've got antibiotics in you. Antipyretics. They just need a few minutes to act.

It's adorable! I feel like Albert calls him Will on occasion for the same reason.

[viralgod]

[ As sure as he was that it was true, Wesker's gaze remained fixed on William. His friend was the only comfort he had, and if he was going to die, at least someone he cared about would be with him.

Most of his vital signs were improving, gradually, but from his perspective, nothing was getting any better. It felt like his heart was beating so fast that it would just give out at any time. Surely it couldn't continue like that forever. ]

god that's so cute... love that for them

[retroviridae]

[ Wesker didn't say anything, just stared at him—it brought forth a new wave of anxiety, but William continued to meet his eyes, gently stroked his shin back and forth atop the blankets with his thumb. It was all he could really do, even as he began to stabilize; the frantic pace of the nurses' activities gradually became less so.

He wasn't well, not at all. He was still pale, sweating, bits of hair hanging in front of his brow. At least some of the nurses left, finally, while two of them stayed behind to monitor his response. ]

You're doing better. Just rest, Al. Your vitals are looking a lot better.

[viralgod]

No. Have to stay awake.

[ He was worried that if he slept, he would never wake up again. But he wanted to sleep. Albert felt completely drained, mentally and physically. At least some of the staff had gone now. He wasn't surrounded by people persistently touching him. ]

And it's cold.

[ But he knew he wouldn't be getting more blankets, so he didn't bother to ask. The cold would keep him awake anyway. ]

[retroviridae]

I know. You have chills.

[ And there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help him, to expedite his arrival into the realm of stable. All he could do was stand there at the foot of the bed, an accessory to the situation, invisible to the nurses. ]

You'll start feeling better when the antibiotics begin to have more of an effect.

[viralgod]

Will I?

[ Wesker wasn't convinced, but at least he was starting to calm a little. His heart rate was going down, the sheer panic he had felt just a short while ago dwindling to something easier to cope with. He blinked sleepily but kept his focus on William. Having him there talking and touching helped. ]

[retroviridae]

Yes. Just needs time.

[ He needed to hear it as much as Wesker did, as though he'd suddenly lost all knowledge of how pharmaceuticals worked. It was strange, how irrational and outright unscientific fear had made him—it was unlike anything William had ever experienced in his life. Even when his mother— There had been a teenager's fear and denial and delusional hope against all known information on what metastasis was, yes, but nothing like this.

Pale blue irises flicked upwards toward the heart monitor on the wall behind his head. The tachycardia was milder now. Good. ]

Just keep breathing.

[viralgod]

[ Some part of Wesker still understood how all this worked and knew that sometimes people die anyway, but he didn't want to work himself into a panic again. Instead, he did as William said, focused on taking deep, calming breaths. The need to sleep was weighing heavier on him, but he tried to resist it. ]

Are you staying?

[ Right now he didn't want to be alone, even for a moment. ]

[retroviridae]

Of course. Where else would I go?

[ Asked in earnest. Going home, sleeping in his own bed while Wesker was trapped here, alone, was unthinkable. Annette could hold down the lab and watch Sherry, and sleeping in a chair had never killed anyone. There was always paperwork to do, recordkeeping, brainstorming. There were plenty of ways he could continue to make forward progress with G without leaving the room, and even if there weren't...

Wesker was his only friend, aside from Annette. He'd been the closest person in his life for the majority of his lifetime. That counted for something. ]

[viralgod]

[ He nodded slightly in response. While he hadn't expected a different response, it helped to hear William say it. He was calming down, but there was still fear nagging at him in the back of his mind.

This wasn't something William likely wanted to hear, but he felt the need to say it anyway. ]

I don't want to die alone.

[retroviridae]

[ They had shared things that were deeply personal in nature, of course, but this felt different. This was the sort of fear that lay at the very core of one's being, something that only a situation like this could truly bring to the fore. Albert wouldn't have told even him that if he didn't sincerely believe it to be a strong likelihood.

And it was, a fact William felt sick even thinking about. There was still a decent chance that this could be fatal, that his condition might plummet just as suddenly again. ]

You're not going to die. And if you did, I'm here. You won't die alone.

[ The nurses had started to step away—one of them interrupted to brief him in a quiet, low tone, the gist of their message being Keep an eye on him. As though there was any hope at all of sleep after the past hour.

William finally removed his hand from Wesker's shin, albeit only to get the chair from the foot of the bed and move it as to sit beside the bedrail. The door shut behind the two nurses who had remained, leaving them alone in the half-silence of the monitors' low, rhythmic beeps. He reached out, gave Wesker's hand a squeeze he hoped was grounding. ]

[viralgod]

[ It wasn't something that he would have admitted to anyone else. Wesker would sooner die alone and terrified than say such a thing to anyone other than William. Fear was a terrible, powerful emotion, and Albert had never felt it the way he had just now.

They both knew that his condition could deteriorate. Optimism was one thing, but denial was quite another. Having one of the very few people he cared about there with him made all the difference.

The nurses left them alone after saying something to William in hushed tones. Albert couldn't hear it, and it didn't really matter much.

When William took his hand, Albert squeezed his in return. He was grateful for the gesture. ]

I don't think I can stay awake.

[ He was still cold and shivering, but not as badly as before. At this point, his exhaustion outweighed his discomfort. ]

[retroviridae]

That's okay.

[ There was still strength to his grasp—the gesture was probably as comforting to William as it was to him. ]

Anyone would be tired after what just happened. [ Except for him. ] Sleep, Albert. You need it.

[viralgod]

I don't have much of a choice.

[ He couldn't keep fighting it. His body was going to get its rest whether he liked it or not. But as he closed his eyes, Albert squeezed William's hand once more—a gesture of thanks for all his friend had done.

Hopefully, he would wake to see his friend again. ]